


Blue Waves

by MatchaMochi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: And other Feelings™, M/M, body swapping, fluffies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 22:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9518138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/pseuds/MatchaMochi
Summary: It’s then when he catches his reflection at the far side of the room, a small mirror with a clock attached above it. Yuuri sees a flash of silver and blue eyes looking back at him with surprise.When he realises that it’s his surprise he goes, ‘Oh.’And his brain short-circuits.(A Your Name AU)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have loadsssss of projects to do rn but what do I do instead? ;v  
> Chap 2 isnt written yet, just pray I still have the vague idea of it after all this shit from college goes down, anyway, ive been waiting AGES to write a viktuuri fic and here we are. Hopefully, more coming soon. maybe.

_The breeze in Russia freezes down to your bones whenever you venture outside, it goes well with the harsh winters that bites Moscow at the end of the year._

_Why then does this one felt so warm?_

_He stretches his arms out, breathing in the rush of heated air. He looks to his side and he smiles. He remembers feeling so, unbearably happy._

_‘Yuuri.’_

_He feels warmth at his cheek and he tilts his head to the side,_

_‘Yes, that’s right.’_

_Was this how dreams felt like? Hazy edges at the sides before everything whites out? Do dreams tell you how blue the skies are? Or how he could hear the quiet murmurs of passer-byes, the sunshine on his face or the magnificent view of the ocean as it stretches on forever and ever,_

_A soft voice, comes out, surrounding him, tugging familiarly at his mind,_

_‘My name is Yuu-‘_

_-_

_-_

Viktor wakes up on a bed.

He doesn’t move for thirty minutes, shifts to the side, hugs a pillow and snores another ten. He feels….warm, did Yakov fix the heater already? He pushes the wandering thought aside, attempts to get up, gaining success in having his head up his shoulders and his feet cross-legged on the bed.

Eyes still closed he yawns slowly and dreads the cold outside the warm confines of his apartment. He smiles softly though, when he feels warm fur nosing his hands gently.

“Good morning Makkachin~ ”

There’s a quite woof, and suddenly Viktor has a bundle of fur licking his face. He laughs and instinctively scratches the dog earning him another lick. He doesn’t notice how small the poodle was. Nor does he notice the lack of clear vision after he has finally opened his eyes.

Viktor shrugs and chalks it up to the lazy morning haze before stumbling off the bed. He trips on the first try.

He gets up, groans and mourns the state of his face that has hit the floor. He walks, (limps) and curses in Russian after he hits the edge of a table with his stomach. He doesn’t move, standing still in the middle of his room. He considers calling Yakov to postpone his training for today since the pounding headache from the night before hasn’t gone, not really. (Viktor blames it on the headache, he doesn’t want to register to the fact that suddenly, everything is where it should _not_ be and he just wasn’t _quite_ as tall as before.)

Mari Katsuki watches the whole disastrous event with quiet bemusement. Vicchan barks up to her wagging his tail begging for an early treat. She sighs and stares at her brother, wonders why he looks so lost in his own room. She shrugs and knocks on the opened door,

“Yuuri, breakfasts ready. Yuuko called me, says something happened with the triplets so she needs you to take care of the rink.”

Her brother doesn’t register to anything she says, squinting at her in confusion before mumbling some nonsense under his breath. She sighs again, hopes that what she’s seeing isn’t how Yuuri acts out every other morning when he isn’t here. Maybe he just had a touch too many _Sake_ last night.

“Yuuri are you listening to me?”

She marches in his room, tuts at the way he was rubbing his eyes drowsily. She grabs his glasses from the table and pushes it at his loose hand,

“Yuuri, _get up._ I need to take care of the Onsen after this-“

Viktor is suddenly an overgrown child incapable of doing anything remotely functional as he looks up at the scary Asian woman slowly, ( _looks up,_ but he has _always_ been the taller one,). Then he has a towel, toothbrush, a pair of glasses shoved at his face. The woman says something in a commanding tone (Japanese? Korean?)  pointing at the room to her right and raising one of her eyebrows.

He has _no fucking idea what’s going on_ , but he follows her stern hand, and pads slowly to the open bathroom.

Inside, Viktor squints, gasps, and shoves his face more closely at the mirror.

His hands shake and he slowly drops everything to the floor.

-

-

When Mari hands him the plate of warm rice fresh from the rice cooker he wonders why he has an odd craving for sandwiches and eggs. He caves in, later. Fries three eggs and hands one to his sister.

“I want some _kasha_ …”

Mari stares at him, egg halfway to her mouth.

“You want _what?”_

Yuuri stares at her back, mouth open.

“What.”

She frowns, “Yuuri, are you still si-“

Mari is cut off by the doorbell ringing outside and Takeshi yelling out for Yuuri to, _‘get out rinks empty!’_

Yuuri scrunches his nose, puzzled,

“Why is he… speaking in English?”

He finishes his breakfast, stuffing the rice in his mouth when his sister replies,

“Wasn’t it _you_ that insisted on speaking English yesterday?”

-

Takeshi is gone by the time he’s outside for his morning run. He scratches his head and debates again if confiscating his phone for the summer was really a good idea.

Mari, annoyance marring her face, (though when was she not annoyed?) shows her a text from Takeshi saying how he had to send the triplets to their school trip to the shrine up the mountains. She continues frowning at Yuuri, “ _and didn’t you say yesterday that you’d join them?”_

He shakes his head and he says no. Because he certainly did _not_ agree to anything of that nature.

Yuuri has a dark feeling emerging in his head, it creeps from the tip of his toes, crawling to his back. And as the day goes by it only _grows._

_-_

The reason he confiscated his own phone? The world championships months from now. Mari oversees it and his coach and Minako has both agreed that he could really do without it. Yuuri says nothing, at first. He protested, then he thinks back, winces and drops the cell phone in Minako-sensei’s bag.

The thing is, it’s his _nerves._ It has always been about that, wasn’t it? At seventeen he enters the senior’s grand prix and achieves nothing because of nerves. He skates and does his jumps again and again but flubs it in a competition because of nerves. He breaks down crying after every kiss and cry because of _nerves._

He doesn’t know how many times a notification pops out in his phone, and how fast he clicks it shows how _nervous_ he is. How he is afraid of what other people think about him, how it might reflect to others, his family, his country. (He doesn’t say but it’s easier like that, blaming himself. Yuuri pictures anxiety as a cave that he crawls into when the outside is just too, too bright. It’s wrong, he knows this. Anxiety isn’t a place you come to, it’s a monster eating you up from the inside, making everything loud and dark with its vicious fangs.)

So, Coach, or Daisuke Tanaka retired skating coach from Kyoto, hugs him firmly and pats his back. Yuuri swallows thickly and nods.

He takes the phone.

-

As he jogs to Hasetsu Castle, his mind wanders up, out, and beyond. He says ‘ _Ohayo!’_ to his neighbours and doesn’t think about the way they looked at him oddly. He thinks about figure skating mostly. Well, since that mainly takes about ninety-percent of his brain, now he thinks about Viktor Nikiforov.

The sun shines, warming his face. When he takes a deep breath, he smells the sea breeze and pulls his jacket a little closer to himself. Ahh, must be good to be Viktor Nikiforov right now. At seventeen he entered the senior’s grand prix and wins another gold. He doesn’t have to worry about _nerves._

Yuuri steps on what suspiciously smells like dog poo at the thought and grimaces. The dark feeling inside him grows again.

He continues regardless, scraping the offending faeces off. Yuuri drifts off again and thought about the training over at Russia. Doubts that he’d ever catch up if ever he decides to train there. He’s going to be competing against him after this.

Yuuri gulps and almost trips on air. It’s not, it’s not that he’s _scared_ , (not so much as excited no, but fear is definitely there even if he doesn’t want to admit it.) it’s just that he had looked up to Viktor ever since the juniors and he wants to be able to look at him, not up, not down, but on the same level, and  say, ‘ _I loved your skating,’._ He wants to face those deep blues and say, ‘ _Did you like mine?’_

He shakes his head dispelling any thought of Viktor from his head. Instead he wondered if the Russian winter really is as cold as they said it was.

When Yuuri arrives at the rink, his eyes widen, bewildered and terrified.

There’s a crowd of people waiting for him outside.

-

“I did _what?”_

Yuuko was ecstatic, cheeks flushed with excitement, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly. “You did _Viktor’s routine_ and you did it _perfectly._ I mean I didn’t know you could skate like that Yuuri!”

He stutters, “B-but- _what?”_

Yuuko beams at him and waves her arm to the group of people piling up outside, “You did it when we had the rink free for tourist and they came back just to see you skate again Yuuri, I-“ she falters, glancing down and blu- _was she blushing?,”_ I wasn’t there but, they told me that you looked very, uh,” she grins at him, “ _Sexy.”_

Yuuri gapes at her, at the crowd, at her again, before shaking his head violently.

Nope. He’s dreaming. Yep, that’s it, he’s dreaming. Or was this retribution? Someone out there in the heavens hated that he had admired Viktor from afar? (or was it the multiple posters pasted on his walls that was occasionally used for not-so-innocent activities?)

He tries to say something, anything. He notices the crowd behind him calling out his name, he notices the way they smiled, eyes shining, _expectant._

Yuuko glances back, “Oh Yuuri, I can call them off for you alright.” She squeezes his shoulders softly.

He nods slowly, looking back at her, “W-where’s Coach…?”

And she looks at him oddly, (in fact, he has lost count on how many people had looked at him like that today. It was as if, as if he was _missing something,)_

“Tanaka-sensei went back to Kyoto for a while because his sister got in a car accident remember? Didn’t he call you yesterday?”

Yesterday, yesterday, yesterday, why was it always yesterday? What exactly _happened_ yesterday?

-

Among all the confusion of who, what, why and _him?_ Yuuri assures himself that _this_ , the ice, his skates, and the rink will never change.

After he successfully dodges the throng of people outside and Yuuko tells them that the rink is closed for today, they mutter a collective sigh and after the last person has trickled down from the rink he hugs her and says thank you. She huffs and tells him that he better train hard for the next competition and Yuuri wonders how he could have ever deserved a friend like this.

The doors shut. He lets out a long, relieved breath before tying up his skates.

When he steps inside the rink he revels in the feeling of ice under his feet, the cold air so different from the summer outside of the windows. He practices a little, before getting ready for his routine.

He lets Coach pick this one for him, (Coach says, ‘ _Are you sure?’_ and after he nods, he looks at Yuuri again and says, ‘ _I have something for you, but if you come up with something else we can work on that too all right?)_ Yuuri never did not know what to choose, (A lie, he doesn’t trust himself enough to _choose_ even,) so for his short programme Yuuri’s theme is ‘ _Rebirth’_. To start something again, to rise and be born anew. Yuuri is familiar with it of course and knows why he has chosen this. After the disastrous competition that was last year, Yuuri could appreciate how Coach would choose something like this for him.

His free skate is a song about perseverance and success. Yuuri wants to change it. (He doesn’t say that out loud of course)

 

And Yuuri _skates._

Yuuko watching and smiling at the background, shouting, ‘ _It’s okay Yuuri!’_ every time he flubs his jumps and clapping whenever he successfully lands one.

He’s tired after a while.

He thinks about how Viktor does quads and how fluid he looks as he does his routine. Yuuri gulps down water, and he continues skating, dreaming about the Russian winter.

-

In the afternoon, like always, Yuuri runs down to Minako’s place for ballet.

She frowns at him at the door though,

“You didn’t come here to practice yesterday Yuuri, and I heard some _really_ weird things about-”

_Yesterday again._ Yuuri decides that he has had _enough._

“Minako-sensei,” he interrupts her. She tilts her head questioningly in response. Yuuri sighs, “I-well. Can you tell me _everything_ that happened yesterday?”

She regards him quietly before leaning back, “Alright, you better come inside then.”

-

So, here’s the run down.

  1. Yuuri wakes up and is suddenly incapable of speaking any Japanese.
  2. He talks in English and spends three hours running around Hasetsu screaming about, ‘ _NINJAS OMG!!!’_
  3. When he finally finds the rink, he tries to work the counter for a whole over five minutes before giving up and announcing that’s it’s, ‘ _Free rink day everyone!’_
  4. Yuuri _skates_ and he skates like he had never done before, exclaiming to everyone he meets that in this body he doesn’t feel tired at all!
  5. Yuuri walks Vicchan to the ocean.
  6. He gets the call from Coach and offers his condolences.
  7. Mari tells Minako that at home, Yuuri spends the whole night marvelling at the posters of Viktor Nikiforov in his room and tells her that this. This. Is. The. Best dream ever!



 

Now. Yuuri pale and frozen, gives up and accepts the alcohol Minako-sensei offers him.

-

“Was I…possessed?”

“Maybe. Or it could be you know. Aliens.”

“Oh…”

“Yuuri, I don’t normally encourage underage drinking you know,”

“Huh,”

“But you’re acting strange and I need to know if there’s anything you need to tell me,”

“Nuthin,”

“Is it the nationals? I know you’ll breeze right through them Yuuri, you’re not bad as you think you are,”

“Hah.”

”Is it the world championships then?”

“mmmmm….”

“Yuuri.”

“Russia….”

“What?”

“Want…..be in Russia with him….”

“……”

“.”

“Yuuri put your pants back on.”

-

Minako-sensei sends him back home after she deems him too drunk to practice ballet, (and after he tries to hump the ballet barres to submission. Minako shudders at the memory, ‘ _Katsudon!’,’No they are NOT Yuuri-)_

Mari shakes her head disapprovingly and curses at her brother while she dumps him on the bed. After she slams the door shut to his room, Yuuri mumbles incoherently and falls into sweet oblivion.

He doesn’t see the yellow post-it note pasted hastily at the edge of his bed. Scribbled Russian letterings are crossed out above it but below are words in English, written with care,

‘ _Who are you?’_

And much below that, as if in hesitance,

‘ _Thank you.’_

-

-

-

-

-

-

Yuuri…...wakes up on a bed.

It’s a very nice bed. King size, warm and very, very fluffy. Yuuri sinks into it like he does in the warm baths of the onsen, sighing contently as he pulls the blanket closer to himself. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s not wearing anything either. Yuuri has the bright idea to not ever wake up. Ever. He wants to sleep forever and just not wake up.

So, he mumbles, and slips into slumber again.

An hour passes. That one turns into two.

‘ _When is my alarm going off?_ ’ Yuuri thought before he turns that two hours into three and smothers his face into the big, warm pillow. There’s a warm weight pressing at his back, distantly, at the far edges of his mind not tainted by sleep, he hears a woof and something pushing on his shoulder. He sleeps through it again after thinking that’s it probably just Vicchan getting hungry again. Yuuri’s not worried, Mari usually gives him breakfast by this time anyway.

Yuuri snores quietly, and he scrunches his nose when he feels the cold in his room.

_‘Summer’s ending very quickly….’_

He sleeps and sleeps and by then morning is already over. Makkachin noses his arms and begs for food before giving up and jumping off the bed.

Yuuri sleeps, and on the bedside table, Viktor’s phone vibrates insistently with messages after messages pouring in.

-

Somebody’s banging on a door.

“ _VIKTOR.”_

Somebody’s banging on _his_ door.

Yuuri groans in complain when the blanket is torn away and the rush of cold air hits his skin. He tries to grab his glasses at the bedside table amidst the screaming din of an angry teenaged blond kid screaming his head off at him. ( _Just what is he trying to say, who is he even, why is he glaring at me-_ wait _)_

The kids glaring at him. Yuuri’s not supposed to know that. Yuuri looks around and everything is _crystal clear_. It even makes it clearer that he is not, in fact, at his own room. He has seen these before, somewhere in IKEA maybe.

The boy is still rambling at him, shaking his shoulders now. He looks at him in confusion and asks _‘What is it? What’s the matter?’_ Yuuri shakes his head violently, and tries again, ‘ _No, who are you? Where am I?’_

The blond boy stops shaking him, he freezes. Looks at him oddly and says, slowly and tentatively,

“Viktor…?”

A thought hits him, Mari’s voice a reminder from a yesterday that seems so far away now, _‘Wasn’t it you that insisted on speaking English yesterday?’_

He clears his throat, “Uh, what’s your name?”

The boy blinks. Opens his mouth, closes it back.

“Viktor.”

“Your name is Viktor?”

“No.”

“Ah…then who….?”

He’s glaring at him again, curling his lips in a snarl, “ _Don’t play games with me Viktor,”_ surprisingly, it’s in English. Yuuri counts that as a win. He looks around, snatching the blanket that had slid off the bed for warmth, and because he’s _naked._

“Um, I’m sorry not-Viktor but I’m confused here, am I supposed to be getting somewhere?”

After all, in each one of Yuuri’s dreams he never had a blond Russian (its _Russian_ , he realises. Yuuri always loved that accent of Viktor’s) kid marching in his not-room, yelling at him for god-knows-what. Can’t he even sleep in his own dreams?

The Russian kid has a problem with that it seems, his left eye twitches and he rips off the blanket from him again. He growls before shoving Yuuri off the bed, Yuuri protesting loudly, ‘ _Hey its cold- ow!’_

The kid points his finger at him, narrows his eyes and hisses out,

“Yuri _Plisetsky._ You are Viktor _Nikiforov_ the man that _didn’t listen to what his coach said yesterday about being on the rink early.”_

_“_ I-“

“Viktor _Nikiforov_ , who slept until _noon_ while his dog starves away in the kitchen,”

“What-“

“Viktor _Nikiforov,”_ his voice rises now, “that seems to think it’s _funny_ to pretend not to know anything!”

Yuuri splutters, his mind a hurricane of _Nikiforovs_ pounding resoundingly in his head,

“I-I don’t- what-“

It’s then when he catches his reflection at the far side of the room, a small mirror with a clock attached above it. Yuuri sees a flash of silver and blue eyes looking back at him with surprise.

When he realises that it’s _his_ surprise he goes, ‘ _Oh.’_

And his brain short-circuits.

-

Yuri, uh, the other Yuri leaves _Yuuri_ Yuuri in the bathroom after that, shouting about his short life expectancy if he messes with Yakov- ( _‘who?’’oh my god, I’m going to make sure your coach kills you today Viktor,)_ – who’s his _coach_ and they’re in _Russia_ and Yuuri is-

Yuuri is-

Yuuri stares at the mirror.

Blue eyes stares at him. Blue? No, _azure_. It’s _weird._ It’s weird how every time he moves the figure in the mirror follows suit, as if, Viktor Nikiforov is _there_ making the most confused expression he had ever seen in his life. Yuuri has only seen him in interviews, posters and routines. Yuuri runs his fingers down the silky silver hair, his eyes track over his ( _Viktors-)_ toned body, taking in the wide expanse of fair skin and muscled torso (his junk is _huge-)_ Yuuri hasn’t even _met_ Viktor in real life, _fuck._

This dream, Yuuri decides, was just a tad _too_ realistic when he notices the morning wood tenting in his black briefs. He gulps, setting the shower to extra cold and wishing it could just drown him.

-

This dream of his, does not show the Russian winter, unfortunately. In fact, Yuuri suspects autumn has just begun to take part.

He shivers. If it was cold now, what was it like in winter?

Breakfast was a sad but short affair. He digs in the kitchen for food and finds the absence of rice ( _rice),_ to be disheartening. Yuuri makes do with sandwiches and coffee. He pulls out a brown coat from the recesses of Viktor wardrobe, (one in which Yuuri was sure consisted of 90% designer wear). He receives an angry text message from not-Yuri telling him that he’s going to walk Makkachin out and that he already fed him on the way out. Makkachin. Viktor’s dog.

He shakes his head aggressively as he jogs to the rink, (he knows the rink where Viktor usually skates, he pulls out google map and tells himself that it’s perfectly normal to know the daily activities of your lifelong idol,) and Yuuri repeats the one sentence on and on in his head like a mantra,

‘ _It’s just a dream, It’s just a dream, It’s just a dream-‘_

_-_

Yuuri doesn’t want to boast that he knows each and every one of Viktors routine but well, he kind of does? This one though, _this one_ he has never seen before. Perhaps it’s the routine Viktor intents to show off in the next world championships. It doesn’t make it any easier when he receives scathing glares and grimaces every time he hits the ice.

Yakov, his apparent coach, lectures him for twenty minutes after his late arrival before growling at him to get on the ice before he strangles someone. Yuuri steps on the ice, and he pales. It’s different, here. _Of course_ it’s different, he’s in _Russia_ as _Viktor Nikiforov_. Besides that, there’s also the not-yuri glaring at him by the side lines, the red-haired woman who’d snickered at him when she saw Yuuri and the amount of people skating in the rink. It’s a lot. All Russian, all really, really tall and far better than _him._

His coach snaps at him to skate his routine and Yuuri stares back at him, helpless. After a huge row of ‘ _What do you mean you forgot your routine??’ ‘I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’_ Yuuri is close to _tears_ and he wants so, so badly to wake up.

-

‘ _Mila’_ that was her name. She sees Yuuri first, huddled between the locker room behind the rink. She raises her eyebrows at him, questioning, “Viktor?”

Its evening by then. Six O’clock and he’s been flubbing his jumps for over three hours. He mumbles a reply, not looking at her, eyes fixed to the floor. She blinks, clicks her tongue together before striding over to him, sitting beside him on the small bench. She sighs, “Bad day huh?”

Yuuri shrugs. He’s used to bad days, sometimes he feels like it’s his every day. This one must be on the top five though. He rubs his hands together, bites his lip. Yuuri is Viktor Nikiforov and he’s still as pathetic as before.

Mila watches him quietly before reaching out and squeezing his shoulder softly, “Viktor… It’s- It’s the first time we’ve _ever_ seen you like this and well,” she rubs her neck, hesitated before continuing on, “Yakov is just worried, you know that right?”

Worried? The man looked ready to bite his head off when he called him off for a half hour break,

Surprisingly, Mila chuckles when she sees the look on Yuuri’s face. She smiles a small smile, and now Yuuri finally gazes back at her, “Honestly, it’s not a bad look on you Viktor.” She purses her lips together, her eyes still shining, “Viktor Nikiforov!” she announces, spreads her arm and looks to the ceiling, the locker room echoes with her voice, “five-time world champion and gold medallist wakes up late and _completely_ forgot the entirety of his routine today!” she faces him steadily, face light, and says quietly, “It’s good to remind people that _you’re_ human too Viktor.”

When Yuuri doesn’t say anything, she sighs again and brushes fake lint off her pants before getting up. As she leaves, she looks back at him,

“But Viktor…...you are also _you_ and it’s not like you to give up that easily.”

Yuuri hears her padding away and he thinks, ‘ _Is Viktor as stubborn as me?’_

_-_

He is.

-

Yurio watches Viktor, eyes like a hawk. It’s night now.

Yakov had dismissed him after he’s somewhat satisfied with his practiced jumps though still frustrated with his quads. Viktor had smiled uncertainly and asked him if, maybe, he could still practice in the rink? Yakov hands him the keys, and Viktor _bows_ and thanks him gratefully. Yakov blinks and he shakes his head. His days couldn’t get any more stressful than this, surely.

That leads them to now, where Yurio watches Viktor, eyes following each and every move.

Viktor is skating a routine but it isn’t _his_ routine. It’s something that does not sit well with him, something that should have been _familiar-_

“He’s different today, isn’t he?”

He snorts at Mila leaning at the wall beside him and mutters, “No shit.”

After Mila had talked with him, Viktor had come out. Face set, jaw tight. But when he skates it’s with vigour and a smile. It’s with mistakes and an earnest need to try _harder._ Yurio watches Viktor, and it’s as if- it’s as if Viktor had fallen in love with the ice again.

Viktor skates like before but with much more mistakes. Viktor _does not_ skate like before and it’s with passion and the kind of music that does not come out of speakers. Yurio couldn’t choose which.

It’s eleven and Viktor comes up to them cheeks red and legs shaking with exertion. He gives a shy thank you to Mila after getting out of his skates and a timid question to both of them,

“W-would like to eat dinner together? It’s the only thing I could think of to properly thank you…”

Yurio and Mila raises their eyebrows. Stared at him before shrugging.

“Sure, why not?”

-

This is what Yuuri realises after Mila talked to him in the locker room.

Yuuri is Viktor Nikiforov. Yuuri isn’t _Yuuri_ , he’s _Viktor Nikiforov_ and this is just a dream, right?

And this is what Yuuri finds out, Viktor Nikiforov memorises his jumps and routine until its muscle memory so when Yuuri slides across the ice with ease he feels a little guilty, as if he’s stealing experience that are not his to gain. But he also feels exhilarated, _joy._ He looks up and he tries to do a quad and he doesn’t slip because he’s fucking _Viktor Nikiforov._

Viktor rarely makes mistakes and he is seen as art in motion. Yuuri knows this because every time he skates out everyone around him stops and stares at him. Yuuri doesn’t like the audience but he likes the anonymity. It’s like wearing a mask and making _his_ own persona of who Viktor Nikiforov is.

At a cosy restaurant tucked away in the corner of St. Petersburg, Mila tells him that _Yuuri’s_ Viktor makes music with his body. Yurio tells him that Yuuri is a fool and that he is underestimating his own body. Yuuri blushes and ducks down to hide his face behind the food.

Yuuri’s Viktor is really just Yuuri himself.

-

(-of what he wants to show _Viktor-)_

_-_

-

-

-

-

-

Viktors wakes up and it’s not on his bed.

The yellow sticky note now has an angry drawing of a poodle underneath _Thank you._

Viktor beams in delight when he squints at the name scrawled shakily in Russian beneath _Who are you?_

And he grabs his glasses on the bedside table.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, Comments and Kudos are appreciated!!! tell me what you think! And im so sorry i am weak in skating language and russian and japanese and generally english


End file.
